


Requiem

by Luminaria (desert000rose)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel!Soo, M/M, Warning: Unsettling themes, fire demon!Chanyeol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9235730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desert000rose/pseuds/Luminaria
Summary: Sometimes, the demon known as Chanyeol remembers Before.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the following piece of music; and may be read while listening for a fuller experience. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xUFjl8LzmY

_Lacrimosa dies illa, qua resurget ex favilla judicandus homo reus..._

 

For a moment, everything is quiet. And then the velvet night is rent in two by a choked gasp. A horrified sob. The low roar of some unholy, consuming terror devouring everything in it's path.

_"Help me, help me, help me, help, help, help me, HELP--"_

The screams tear through the night, carried along on acrid air as every noise grows more ragged, more desperate, feral in the face of the mounting dread that sinks into the earth surrounding like acid rain searing into a field to destroy everything it touches

He wonders, idly, if she won't rip her own vocal chords in two, and as the shrieking suddenly stops, decides perhaps she did. Either that or the husband holding her back decided to simply stop trying... or perhaps she swallowed her own tongue mid howl.

He's glad for it. The noise was growing bothersome. Night time should be peaceful, quiet, comforting in the warm glow of the firelight.

Well. It hardly seems night, as high and bright as the flames have climbed now, and he looks up as they rise as high as the treetops, hypnotized by the flicker, the rhythms they hold within their scarlet depths like a language known only to him.

Her children were inside when he set the first spark. He can smell them on the air, tongue flicking out for a moment to catch the taste of them mingled in the smoke and flame.

The light is beautiful. Warm... glowing...the closest thing to home he experiences on the barren crust of this world he's been sentenced to roaming.

He's here for a purpose, and while he understands that the assignment is necessary... sometimes he misses the warm, fetid air, the spice of sulfer and smoke clinging to his skin...the chorus of those same ragged cries that grows increasingly louder in the deepest pits where the rhythm of unquenchable flames pounds like a heartbeat through his veins.

He misses it. But as the tall figure unwinds himself from where he's stood watching his creation comes to life, he thinks quietly, that this is almost as good.

With the shrieking silent, there is nothing to interfere with the flickering beats, the hissing, crackling melody as timbers and stone and flesh are all consumed alike. He walks forward, and the music sung by his flames welcomes him, sinking into his skin in the touch of his oldest and dearest lover.

It's warm here, finally chasing the chill of the night air from his skin as he settles down on a bed of embers, scooping them up around himself a bit, creating a nest in the very heart of the blaze. The coals are soft as he rests himself on them, flames flickering over his skin and hair to light the crimson and bronze like the finest of jewelry.

How nice it would be to spend every night like this, wrapped in warmth and light that blazes as if it would last forever illuminating the indigo sky and making mockery of the tiny stars casting their glow from above. Perhaps he will. The fires here don't burn as hot or unending as those of home... but they do burn so much faster. He barely had to brush a finger over this place before flames licked into the dry wood and took on a life of their own. Surely there are more, many more places just like this, and even if he knows well enough that every night is out of the question just to avoid compromising his tasks... surely every few wouldn't hurt.

Satisfied, he rests his head on the embers, trying to ignore the knowledge that he is just as likely to wake with a crick in his neck in the morning due to lack of support from the pile of ash he'll be resting on. For now, it's worth it. The fire is singing to him, sweet scented as lingering whisps of innocence blend with the much more potent spice of horror and loss that make it feel almost perfect. And so, wrapped in light and warmth of his own making and ready for a truly wonderful sleep, Chanyeol closes his eyes...

 

 

....And opens them, moments later, gasping in his own horror as sweat soaks into the fabric covering his body. His heart pounds like a war drum as those sounds... those _sounds_ ring in his ear over and over, desperate and wretched, tainted and sour like rotting strings and wood scraping together in a mockery of what had once been music.

It's been a long time since he's had those dreams. Since he's remembered... since he woke to the scent of smoke in his nose and fever simmering in his veins with naked _want_.

It's too much... too much, and as he feels the body beside him shift the lanky demon flinches violently, scrambling from the bed like a man possessed. He can't touch him like this... he can't see him like this, again, anyway. He's been doing so good...he doesn't want to remember...doesn't want to want.

"Chany'l?" His bedmate slurs his name blearily, stirring amid the sheets Chanyeol's body has left soaking with sweat, gradually becoming aware as the demon skitters back, thudding against the floor and running his fingers through his sopping hair to push it out of his eyes, to try to do anything to cool down the heat burning inside him, calling out for the memory of brimstone and ash. For a moment, he can't reply, tries to say something, to tell him to go back to sleep...but then smooth feet hit the floor, and the lithe shadow of him winds across the moonlit floor to flicker on the light.

The artificial florescent brightness hits him, and for a moment he resists the urge to hiss at how wrong it feels. Normally it doesn't bother him, but with the memory of true light... of the purest, most everlasting form of light in it's rawest, most beautiful form still thrumming under his skin, the dim yellow glow from the lamp makes him itch.

"Chanyeol?"

He tries not to flinch, really, but the angel's grace sets him almost as ill at ease as the light, the contrast of it to what he feels inside him too much.

"Chanyeol...oh... _oh_." He hears realization in his voice, and as the smaller man crouches in front of him he can't bring himself to look at him, knowing that his eyes are blazing, fully lit with hellfire instead of the little warm glow normally buried in their depths. The other man doesn't mind it, Chanyeol knows. But it's easier to look in the mirror and see warm, comforting little embers warm and merry to light his smile, than see what he knows his lover will see now if he looks up.

"Chanyeollie..." The angel tries again, tender, reaching out to brush a hand over his cheek and the contact feels like cool water on a burn.

And then suddenly, he's there, and Chanyeol's so utterly aware of him, just him, lit up with something no fire or lightbulb will ever be able to match... heavenly light that is as unfading as the fires he grew up in. Cool... refreshing...comforting... forgiveness and acceptance, and it puts out the flames in one rush of mercy until he sags forward into the hug his lover has waiting for him.

The other doesn't ask. He doesn't need to-- after all... he's seen his fires with his own eyes, seen the demon walking out of the flames with an ear to ear grin and unholy fire lighting his eyes. Instead, he holds him, and Chanyeol curls up, curls into his comfort and tries to get the scent of ash out of his nose. He buries it in his lover's dark hair, and finds that that helps, leaving him sighing with relief as the tension slowly evaporates off and leaves him... only Chanyeol, and him, only Kyungsoo.

"Sorry..." He rasps the word, and earns a soft ruffle of his sweat-matted hair in return as Kyungsoo shushes any more apologies.

They don't make it back to the bed that night. Instead, Kyungsoo turns the light back off and leads him to the sofa, tugs out extra blankets and pillows and curls on top of him, leaving Chanyeol settled in an entirely different sort of nest.

It's not easy, condemned to walk this in-between, human world rather than enjoy the comfort of the home he grew up in. Even more so due to his attempt to deny the nature inside him, to hold fast to the second chance he's been given. But at least he isn't alone. He'd thought when the Holy One's servant had first found him he was surely to be ended for all he'd done, and yet the tiny, deadly seraph had instead looked on him...and extended mercy. Not only the mercy of his life, but additional grace Chanyeol would have never expected; the other man's company, aid, and eventually love. 

It's not the first night he's remembered. It won't be the last. The ache inside him doesn't ever really go away, no matter where they travel, what new skills he puts his hands to learning to try to teach himself to create instead of destroy. But here, in the quiet repose of grace, of soft hands and tender words, of being seen intimately for what he is and accepted regardless, he finds hope to continue anyway. 

This time, when he listens, the angel's low voice is soothing in his ear, sweeter than any crackling flame or ragged cry. This time, he presses his cheek to cool skin rather than glowing coals. And this time, when he closes his eyes, Chanyeol _rests_.

 

_....Huic ergo parce, Deus; Pie Jesu Domine. Dona eis requiem. Amen._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Any constructive criticism is most welcomed.


End file.
